


21 Days of Training

by fallingintodivinity



Category: DC Cinematic Universe, DCU, Justice League (2017), Justice League - All Media Types
Genre: First Kiss, First Time, Fluff, Humor, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-10-12
Updated: 2017-10-12
Packaged: 2019-01-16 09:16:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,778
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12339807
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/fallingintodivinity/pseuds/fallingintodivinity
Summary: In which Bruce trains Barry, and Barry develops an inconvenient crush.





	21 Days of Training

**Author's Note:**

  * Translation into 中文 available: [21 Days of Training 21日训练营](https://archiveofourown.org/works/14324799) by [ChrisBlue](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ChrisBlue/pseuds/ChrisBlue)



> Written for Kinktober 2017. Prompts: (25) Smiles/Laughter, (26) Mirror Sex

  

 

**-DAY 1-**

“Thanks for agreeing to train me,” said Barry Allen, following Bruce Wayne into the huge gymnasium of Wayne Manor. He gaped at the huge assortment of workout machinery in the gymnasium, all leather and gleaming steel. “ _Whoa._ You really _are_ rich.”

Bruce flicked an inscrutable look at him, then continued across the gymnasium, toward a door on the other end. After a pause, Barry followed him. “Anyway, thanks. I could use the help, I’ve never actually fought before and all that – er. What are you doing?”

Bruce had led him into a small room just off the gymnasium, with floor-to-ceiling mirrors across all four walls and exercise mats arranged neatly across the floor, and now he shut the door behind them and locked it.

Without warning, Bruce dropped into a crouch, sweeping a leg out in front of him. Barry yelped as his feet were swept out from under him and he fell unceremoniously on his ass in front of Bruce. “Ow! _What the –_ ”

“Defend yourself,” Bruce said sternly, and that was the only warning Barry got before Bruce spent the entire afternoon beating him to a pulp.

At some point during the afternoon, the door to the room opened and Diana walked in, a key in her hand and a worried expression on her beautiful face.

She looked from Bruce, who’d barely broken a sweat, the bastard, to Barry, who was lying on one of the exercise mats in a sweaty, undignified heap, then turned around and walked back out, ponytail swinging behind her. Barry heard the key turn in the lock and let out a small, pathetic moan, burying his face in his folded arms.

“He’s still alive!” Diana shouted from outside the door, sounding immensely relieved. Barry heard the answering murmurs of Arthur’s and Victor’s voices in reply. He would’ve have felt insulted if he’d actually had any energy left to feel anything at all.

Tilting his aching head up, he squinted at Bruce, who actually looked _offended_.

It was going to be a long afternoon.

 

**-DAY 2-**

Barry hadn't thought he could possibly be in more pain than he was yesterday, but he most definitely was. Oh, he was no slouch, and he worked out regularly, but Bruce had years of fighting under his belt, and Barry…did not.

Muscles he didn't even know he _had_ were aching. His speed didn’t even help him, because speed was useless against a guy who already knew what your next five moves were going to be. Barry made a mental note to never play chess with Bruce.

Diana popped into the workout room in the afternoon again, took a good look at him and walked right back out, abandoning him to his fate. She didn't look as worried as she had yesterday, which gave Barry some reassurance until he realized that either: (1) he was getting better, or: (2) Diana was just _getting used to the idea of his imminent death_.

 

**-DAY 4-**

"I like you the best," he told Diana, "so when Bruce finally kills me, you can have my stuff."

She just laughed and patted his arm, which wasn’t comforting in the least.

 

**-DAY 6-**

Despite all his complaints – and his aching body – Barry had to admit that Bruce was an excellent teacher, tough but patient, willing to show Barry the same move over and over again until he mastered it. He actually _was_ getting better at fighting – and he was also getting pretty good at reading Bruce’s movements, so he could defend himself a little better against Bruce’s attacks, if not yet being able to actually land any hits on Bruce apart from the occasional glancing blow. His speed, now that he could read Bruce and make his own movements a little more unpredictable in response, was actually starting to feel like an asset, and it felt _good_.

The problem was, now that Barry was starting to pose a little bit of a challenge to Bruce, Bruce was actually starting to work up a sweat. Which meant that he started fighting with his shirt off. Which…normally wouldn’t have been a problem, if it had been anyone else. Anyone else who wasn’t tall and bloody gorgeous and brilliant and two hundred-odd pounds of pure muscle.

Barry was expending so much effort concentrating on _not_ staring at Bruce’s bare chest that some of his counters to Bruce’s attacks were pure reflex, no conscious thought behind the actions, and that actually ended up working much better for him than when he’d actually been _thinking_ about what to do.

“Good job today,” Bruce said approvingly when they were done, giving him just the barest hint of a smile, and Barry actually – _what the fuck_ – felt his knees get a little weak.

Oh, _hell_.

 

**-DAY 7-**

As Bruce and Barry were preparing to begin Barry’s training for the day, Arthur unlocked the room door from the outside and strolled in with a huge bowl of popcorn. He shut the door behind him and sat down on one of the exercise mats in a corner of the room, settling in and making himself comfortable.

“Dude.” Barry stared at him. “What are you doing.”

“Observing,” Arthur told him, waving an airy hand. “Carry on.”

 

**-DAY 8-**

Arthur showed up with the popcorn again, and also with Victor and Diana in tow. They settled down in the same corner of the room as before, sharing the bowl of popcorn and cheerfully making observations about Barry’s fighting technique and form.

It was actually very helpful, having his friends point out the flaws in his technique. However, it was also getting increasingly difficult to _not_ be distracted by how little Bruce was wearing, so on the whole, Barry considered this one a wash.

 

**-DAY 10-**

Barry was feeling good about his training. He’d improved by leaps and bounds, the past week and a half, and today, maybe Bruce was tired or just a little off his game, because as Barry swung a punch at him,  deliberately leaving himself wide open, Bruce went low to tackle him, just as he’d expected. He let himself roll with the tackle, allowing Bruce’s weight to bear them both to the ground, then used that momentum to roll them over so that he was straddling Bruce’s hips, pinning both Bruce’s wrists with his hands.

He grinned triumphantly down at Bruce. “Not bad, huh?”

Bruce had an odd expression on his face: a mixture of grudging respect and something else Barry couldn’t quite place. He was staring at Barry intensely, dark eyes wide.

The image of them in the floor-to-ceiling mirror opposite him caught Barry’s eye then, and he looked up, breath catching in his throat. He saw himself in the mirror sitting astride Bruce’s hips, leaning over Bruce, their groins pressed together and faces inches apart, both of them half-naked and sweaty and breathing hard – and gods, maybe it’d been way too long since he’d gotten laid, but that image was _way_ hotter than it had any right to be.

He quickly slid off Bruce’s hips before Bruce got an up-close-and-personal demonstration of the effect he was having on Barry. Getting to his feet, he offered a hand to pull Bruce up.

 

**-DAY 11-**

They’d all planned to go for dinner at Barry’s favorite pizza place this evening, and Barry had really been looking forward to it, but he was so exhausted from his training that he kept nodding off. Squashed in a booth between Diana and Bruce, he’d wolfed down half a pizza then spent the rest of the evening valiantly trying to keep his eyes open.

Sitting opposite Barry, Arthur and Victor watched with obvious amusement as Barry yawned for the tenth time, then slumped against Bruce’s shoulder, eyelids slipping shut.

After everyone had had their fill of pizza, they went back out to the car, Bruce half-carrying a semi-conscious Barry. He even deigned to let Victor drive while he sat in the backseat and let Barry sleep against his shoulder.

Barry revived a little when they reached Wayne Manor, and let Bruce manhandle him up the stairs. By the time they reached the top of the stairs he was pretty much dead weight, so Bruce swept him into a bridal carry, shoved Barry’s room door open with his shoulder and gently placed him on the bed.

“’s more pizza?” Barry asked hopefully, blinking blearily up at Bruce.

“I think it’s time you went to bed,” Bruce said, looking amused.

“Are you coming too?” Barry asked, too sleepy to actually process what he was saying.

Bruce’s lips quirked. “Not tonight,” he said. He tucked the blanket around Barry and left the room silently.

Barry yawned again, then sat up in bed, abruptly wide awake.

 _‘Not tonight’?_ Did that mean Barry had a chance with Bruce _another_ night? Had he really, in a state of sleepy delirium, _propositioned Bruce Wayne?_

“Ugh,” he moaned into his pillow.

 

**-DAY 14-**

Another day of training preceded another evening where Barry was, embarrassingly, constantly on the verge of falling asleep in his dinner again.

He settled for leaning against Bruce, who was sitting next to him, and blinking sleepily at his teammates as they ate. His head kept slipping off Bruce’s shoulder whenever he nodded off, though, until Bruce slid an arm around him, tucking Barry firmly against his side.

Barry blinked awake again to find his teammates eyeing him narrowly.

“Fifty bucks that he lasts two more weeks,” Arthur announced.

Victor snorted. “One and a half, tops,” he said.

“Guys,” said Barry, looking injured. “I’m getting better at this, I _swear_.”

Diana shook her head at them all sadly, long ponytail swaying gently. “One week,” she said.

“Diana!” gasped Barry, looking completely betrayed.

Bruce smirked at Barry and ate the last French fry off his plate.

“I hate you _all_ ,” said Barry.

 

**-DAY 16-**

Bruce got called away for some kind of event that the Wayne Enterprises CEO was apparently direly needed at. Barry decided that this was probably a good thing because his crush on Bruce was getting totally out of control. Either that or he was some kind of masochist or something, because getting beaten up by Bruce was rapidly becoming the best part of his day.

Diana took over his training while Bruce was away, and she worked him hard enough that he actually managed not to think about Bruce the entire day.

Naturally, he dreamt of Bruce that night. He woke up in the middle of the night tangled in his sheets, sweaty and uncomfortably aroused.

On the bright side, things probably couldn't get worse.

 

**-DAY 17-**

Apparently, things actually _could_ get worse.

When Barry dragged himself down to breakfast that morning, Victor looked at him slumped over a bowl of cereal at the breakfast table and patted his head.

Arthur clapped him on the shoulder and said consolingly, “cheer up. Bruce’ll be back soon.”

Barry looked up at him, aghast. Next to Arthur, Diana gave Barry the same look he'd seen her give to stray puppies on the street.

“Don't tease him, you two,” she admonished.

So apparently the entire League knew about his little crush on Bruce. Barry buried his head in his arms and groaned.

 

**-DAY 19-**

Bruce returned late that night, after everyone else was asleep. Barry was in the kitchen getting a glass of water and idly wondering how Bruce was doing, so he almost jumped out of his skin - and dropped the glass of water - when he turned around and found the subject of his thoughts, dressed to the nines in a tux and looking good enough to eat, standing right behind him.

Bruce caught the glass of water before it hit the ground and handed it back to Barry, who was a little red-faced, then poured himself a glass of water from the kettle on the kitchen counter.

“How'd it go?” Barry asked, looking at Bruce. Bruce looked tired, dark circles under his eyes and small, unhappy lines around his eyes.

Bruce shrugged. “I hate it, to be honest,” he said wryly. “Some of the things I have to do as Bruce Wayne. The endless schmoozing, running from party to party to prove to everyone that I’m exactly as shallow and empty-headed as the tabloids say I am.”

“Mm. Having to sip cocktails and flirt with a string of beautiful women when you could've been beating me up instead?” said Barry. “Yeah, it sounds awful.”

And okay, he was fishing a little, but he really couldn’t quite help himself.

Bruce’s lips quirked, and he looked almost fond. “Quite,” he said.

Barry put his glass of water on the table. “Alright, c’mon,” he said. Bruce looked at him questioningly.

“I’ll let you beat me up for a bit,” said Barry, jerking his head in the direction of the gymnasium. “Since you missed me so terribly and all.”

Bruce looked amused. “This doesn’t mean I’ll go any easier on you tomorrow, you know,” he said.

“I wasn’t asking you to,” replied Barry cheerfully.

With a soft chuckle, Bruce put his glass of water on the table next to Barry’s and followed the younger man out of the kitchen.

 

**-DAY 20-**

True to his word, Bruce didn’t go easier on Barry at all during the day’s training. They’d both opted to go shirtless today, each only wearing a pair of sweatpants, and Barry was grateful for it, because apart from this allowing him to ogle Bruce’s bare chest, Bruce had also stepped up the pace of their workout today and he’d been drenched in sweat almost since they’d begun.

In the afternoon though, he managed to fake Bruce into lunging for him again, then let Bruce bear them both to the ground, using the momentum to roll them over and straddle Bruce’s hips, pinning him flat on his back.

Except – except that he’d pulled the _exact_ same move on Bruce a week and a half ago, so there was no way Bruce would’ve been fooled by that trick again. Which meant…that Bruce was _letting_ him do it.

He stared down at Bruce, who was looking at him with a sort of serious, hungry expression, his eyes fixed on Barry’s lips.

“See something you like?” Barry said teasingly, and Bruce scowled at him and actually _blushed_. Barry’s heart sped up.

He leaned closer, smiling. “I’ve heard a lot about Bruce Wayne’s legendary seduction techniques,” he said invitingly.

“Apparently,” Bruce said, still scowling, “I’m only able to do that with people who _don’t matter._ ” – and with that, Barry _had_ to lean down and kiss him, nipping and licking Bruce’s parted lips until the scowl was replaced with a smile, Bruce’s strong hands gripping his wrists hard.

When he sat up again, Bruce was looking at him, dark eyes intense, devouring him with his gaze, and Barry felt hot all over. He looked at their reflections in the mirrors on the walls around them, both their dark heads tousled and lips kiss-swollen, faces flushed and bare chests heaving, and abruptly he wanted _more_.

Bruce seemed to feel some of his urgency; he lifted his hips to let Barry tug his sweatpants off then pulled Barry’s sweatpants off, too, then dragged him in for another kiss, hard and bruising. He rolled them over so that Barry was beneath him, then started to kiss his way down Barry’s chest.

“Wait,” Barry said, gripping Bruce’s shoulder. He pointed to the mirror. “I want to – to see us – ”

“You are so depraved,” Bruce said mildly, but, smiling, let Barry sit up and turn them around before resuming his ministrations.

 

**-DAY 21-**

Barry woke in the morning naked, with his face pressed into an exercise mat. He felt pleasantly sore all over. He stretched, long and luxurious, rolled over onto his back, and winced. Some parts of him were more sore than others.

Next to him, Bruce slowly blinked his eyes open. He was naked too, and using his rolled-up sweatpants as a pillow.

Barry stared thoughtfully up at the ceiling.

“Hey,” he said to Bruce. “Maybe you should put some mirrors on the ceiling, too.”

“Depraved,” Bruce said again, and yawned. “I’ll consider it.”

The door opened, and Victor walked in. He stared down at Barry and Bruce, who stared back at him.

Victor sighed. "Couldn't you two have waited _one_ more day?"

As Victor left, Barry blinked at Bruce. "What was _that_ about?"

The door opened again, and Diana walked in. She took one look at them, grinned, then turned around and walked back out, shutting the door behind her.

“Arthur!” they heard her holler from outside the room. “You owe me fifty dollars!”

 

End.

  


End file.
